


The Five People Who Questioned Sansa Stark's Decisions and the One Who Didn't

by jonsaremembers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffity fluff fluff FLUFF, Wedding Planning, heavily inspired by my own life lol, it's like i am going back to the beginnings of fandom all by myself!, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:58:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsaremembers/pseuds/jonsaremembers
Summary: Sansa and Jon are getting married, and everybody else's nose is in their business.





	1. I - Catelyn

“It’s just…not done, dear,” Catelyn said through pursed lips as she stood outside the dressing room door. Sansa repressed a sigh as she twitched the collar to a flattering angle, straightened her back and opened the door. Cat’s disapproving frown…did not soften even a little.  
Sansa wore a white woolen coat with round pearly buttons and a beautiful shawl collar. It reached nearly to her knees. She tried to look angelic. “Mom, it’s pretty, it’s warm, I can still wear a reception dress underneath it and it’s unique. I love it. Why can’t you love it with me?”  
Catelyn’s eyebrow had quirked up. “Unique? Sometimes I think you try too hard to be unconventional.”  
“That’s not it,” Sansa insisted. “I legitimately do love it. And Jon will love it. That’s why I like it.” Tears were looming behind her eyes, but she would not cry – would not.  
Catelyn sighed, and Sansa’s lip wobbled in relief. She turned quickly to hide it. “All right, dear,” Catelyn said. “But will you still wear your grandmother’s earrings? She would be so happy to see you in them.”  
“Of course!” Sansa said, and meant it.


	2. II -

“Sans, just let me call Megga,” Margaery pleaded, lounging across the foot of Sansa’s bed, waving her iPhone. “You really shouldn’t do your own makeup on your wedding day.”  
“Are you saying I’m bad at makeup?” Sansa replied coolly, paging through her wedding Pinterest board.  
“No.” Marg rolled over and sat up. “But you’re not a professional. You should have a professional. You deserve a professional.” Her tone was at its trademark wheedlingest. “I bet Jon would agree with me.”  
Sansa snorted before she could stop herself. “Jon would think I could do anything I wanted to and you know it. Besides, ever since your order of gummy penises was still on the counter when he came over, he doesn’t trust your wedding opinions.”   
Marg grinned the grin of one who is thoroughly guilty, but extremely pleased with herself. “He’s just altogether too modest. So are you. You’re gonna have the sexiest children. Very unfair.”   
“Thank you,” Sansa laughed.  
“But regardless!” Marg persisted. “Let me find you a makeup artist. You have to look like a princess.”  
“Kate Middleton did her own makeup,” Sansa retorted.  
Marg’s mouth dropped open. “No.”   
“Yes,” Sansa opened a new tab to Google it for proof. “So you can just chill.”   
“Fine.” Margaery flopped onto her back. “But I reserve the right to tell you it looks terrible.”   
“Okay,” Sansa agreed.


	3. III - Arya

“Arya!” Sansa yelled for the third time. Her baby sister’s head poked round the doorframe, encircled by the ever present headphones.  
Sansa gestured for her to remove them. “You have to be kidding me, Arya.”   
“What?” Arya plopped next to Sansa on the couch and peered at the open Spotify window. “This is good music.”   
“Not wedding music though,” Sansa reminded her, keeping but a tenuous hold on her patience.  
Arya shrugged. “I thought you were being nontraditional.”   
“Not that nontraditional,” Sansa sighed. “People like to hear certain songs at a wedding. That’s how you get them to dance. And including one classic love song would not hurt you.”   
“Fiiiiine.” Arya got up and stomped away. Sansa looked after her and ran her hands through her hair. She needed a drink.


	4. IV - Ned

“Here’s the burgers, Dad,” Sansa said as she stepped out of the back door on Labor Day and picked her way across the patio dusted with early leaves to her father, stood at the barbecue.   
“Thank you, San,” he said, plucking them off her platter one by one with his immense metal tongs. She nodded and stepped back a pace, waving her hand at the smoke. When it cleared, she gazed up at the trees, beginning to turn just the faintest bit. In a few months they would be bare and it would be winter – then it would be December, Christmas, and their New Year’s Eve wedding…she smiled dreamily to herself.  
“Sansa?”  
She jumped. Ned was looking directly at her.   
“Yes?”   
He smiled fondly. “What were you thinking about?”  
“The wedding,” she said. She couldn’t always bring herself to say “my” or “our” yet.   
Ned’s smile grew wider, then he looked contemplative. “You know, Sans, the country club has a couple openings in December. It’s not too late…”   
Sansa’s first thought was, “Dammit, he ruined it,” but then she felt bad. “Um, I don’t know, Dad,” she stammered. “You know how much Jon loves that ski hill. And it’s special to me too. We kissed for the first time on that chairlift.”   
Ned’s neck turned pink. “I didn’t know that.”   
Sansa couldn’t stop the tears, but pressed on. “So thanks but no thanks, I guess.” She swiped at her nose and tried to focus on the trees at the edge of the yard.   
Ned hugged her awkwardly, the tongs still in one hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.  
“I just – ” she sniffled – “I can understand Mom giving me a hard time, but I thought you would understand.”   
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t realize how important it was to you.”   
“Not just the ski hill,” she corrected. “I want to do it my way.”   
“I know,” he said, comforting hand on the crown of her head. “You always did. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that.”   
Sansa sniffed and tried to look dignified. “Thank you.”


	5. V - Rickon

“Sansy?” Rickon asked as she set the bowl of mac and cheese in front of him.  
“Yes, cowboy,” she answered.  
“What kind of cake is your wedding cake gonna be?”   
“Um, well, actually, we’re gonna have three flavors.”   
Rickon’s eyes bugged out. “Three cakes?!”   
“Not exactly,” Sansa deflected. “Three kinds of…cupcakes.”  
This time his little face fell. “Cupcakes?”   
“Yeah!” Sansa said brightly. “Chocolate, red velvet, and cinnamon.”   
“Cupcakes aren’t as big as cake pieces,” Rickon complained.   
“They’ll have lots of frosting,” Sansa reminded him, “and you can try all three. I bet you three cupcakes are as big as one cake piece.”   
“Maybe!” Rickon brightened slightly. “But I don’t like cinnamon.”  
Sansa rolled her eyes.


	6. I - Jon

“Babe, you outdid yourself,” Jon proclaimed through a half swallowed belch. The remains of a gourmet Italian dinner sat resplendent on the table between them.   
Sansa beamed at him over her wineglass. “Think you’ll like being married to me?”   
“I’ll be in seventh heaven,” Jon assured her as he got up and began to clear the table.   
“So will I if you always do the dishes,” Sansa sighed, stretching luxuriously back in her chair and sipping at her wine again.   
“If that’s all I gotta do to keep you happy, I’ll install the best damn dishwasher there is,” he answered.  
Sansa laughed, swiveled in her chair. “Jon, I want to ask you something.”   
“Sure.”   
“Can we have the dogs be our ringbearers?”  
Jon grinned at the plate he was rinsing. “YES.”   
Sansa flushed, leaped up and threw her arms around him. A couple tears leaked onto the back of his T-shirt.  
“Baby, hey, what? Did you not want me to say yes?” Jon was immediately turning to hold her.  
“No, of course I did,” she sobbed, trying to make sense of her feelings. “It’s just that everybody else has been so weirdly pushy…they all want me to do different things…I’ve had to fight for what I want at every turn…I was expecting you to fight me too I guess…and now I have all this fight I don’t need to use…I’m just so glad we like each other’s ideas!”   
Jon chuckled softly. “That’s why you should marry me and not them!”   
Sansa guffawed and snot came out her nose. Jon’s thumb swiped away the tears on her cheek. Everything was going to be fine.


End file.
